


Days of Gold

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Sexy Times, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:04:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I sort of like it: your cheeks all flushed, the little red on the tip of your nose.”  </p>
            </blockquote>





	Days of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> So again I'm out of season (unless you're living in the southern hemisphere *waves*), but I'm really over these frigid PA days so this is probably going to keep happening. 
> 
> Title from the Jake Owen song of the same name.

“How bad is it?” She tosses his old Yankees shirt that she’s been using as a cover-up into the tote before hitching it high on her shoulder.

“Not bad at all, just a little...” He tilts his head to the side, lips pressing together as he searches for a term that won’t make her wince. “Um... pink...”

“So I match the lemonade is what you’re saying.”

He laughs, tucking their chairs under his arm and starting down the sandy path to their rented villa. “More bubble gum than pink lemonade; not that I’ve been studying that pantone chart you put in the home office or anything.”

“There will be a pop quiz on the flight home. Really though...” She turns, walking backwards, and shoves his shoulder. “How bad is it?”

“Ow! That’s no way to treat your new husband.” Scowling, he rubs at his arm, the corner of his mouth tipping up in amusement and happiness. The rightness of the new label catches him off guard and he can’t help but reach out, twining their fingers together as she turns once more and leans into him.

“Man up, Queen!”

“Ohh, you are going to pay for that later.” He presses a kiss to her temple, hand flexing against hers. “And if the question still stands, it’s really not bad at all. I sort of like it: your cheeks all flushed, the little red on the tip of your nose.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re the one who distracted me from reapplying sunscreen.”

“You got me.” He raises his hands in supplication, chairs still held close to his body by his elbow alone. “That doesn’t make it any less true though.”

Grinning, she brushes her thumb across his palm. “As if the multiple walks on the beach and continually tackling me into the ocean wasn’t enough, you nixed my hat because ‘you couldn’t see me properly’.”

And really, she hadn’t argued too much about that because it had kept flying off during their first race from their blankets to the water, substantially impeding her progress.

(She’d smoked him three of five subsequent sprints.)

“...if you found something with a smaller circumference than the sun then a straw hat would be fine.” He smirks, unlatching the gate and leaning the chairs next to the picnic table. The smile only grows as the bags in her arms follow suit and she kicks off her shoes, crossing the small patch of grass to flick on the outdoor shower. “Or, even better, you can borrow my hat tomorrow.”

“You realize I’ll have to adjust the strap... all my hair...” She gestures towards the loose knot at the back of her head as she steps into the shower to wash any lingering sand off.

“I think I can deal with that.” He steps in behind her, quickly undoing the knot and gently running his hands through her hair. “You forgot to take your glasses off.”

“Hmm.” She turns, hands flattening against his chest. “ _You_ distracted me again.”

Gingerly he removes her glasses, places them on the little corner shelf in the stall, and kisses her, thumb tracing the water over her cheek, across her jaw. She sighs into it, her arms banding around him as his tongue strokes over hers.

Pulling away, he walks her a few steps back so she’s fully under the spray, quickly discards her suit, and begins washing her off, hands grazing over her body.

“Shoulders... little red... too...” He punctuates the point by drawing soothing circles across the irritated skin and she gasps, bites down on the inside of her lip as his mouth follows the track his fingers just traced.

“If I’d had my hat...”

“Half the beach would’ve been protected.” He smirks at the lazy smile stretching across her face, the way her eyes flutter shut as his fingers drift back down her body. “And I thought we agreed, you’re wearing a Yankees hat tomorrow.”

“People are going to start... oh... you’re...” Her breath hitches as he cups her breast and then suddenly she’s tugging him back to her, nails raking over his back as his knee nudges between hers. “You...”

“Hmm? Forget my name, Miss Smoak?”

“Bastard.” Her mouth crashes against his, hands hooking into the top of his trunks.

He steps back long enough to untie the knot at his waist, kick out of the pants, and lift an eyebrow at her. “Not the first time you’ve called me that.”

“It won’t be the last.”

There’s a heat in her eyes—some heady mixture of challenge and acceptance and lust and love—that completely rocks him and suddenly she’s pressed against the wall, his teeth scraping over her collarbone as her hands cup his ass, urge him closer.

“God, how’d... so lucky...” He nips at her jaw once and lifts her higher on the wall, water pounding against his back as her legs wrap around his waist.

“Mmmm... both...” And it says something that she knows, even in this moment of racing blood and incoherence and... god, would he just fucking get in her already... he knows what she’s saying.

They’re both so goddamn lucky.

His hand flexes then on her hip and she gasps, head falling back as he hooks her leg higher on his hip and slides home.

He doesn’t move for a long minute and when she finally catches her breath she’s surprised to find his gaze pinned to her left hand pressed against his shoulder.

“Oliver, I need... you have to...”

“Yes?” The corner of his mouth tips up as their gazes meet and his arm tightens around her waist.

“Move...” It’s halfway between a sigh and demand as she digs her heel into the small of his back.

“Fuck yes.” Pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, he rocks forward, his forehead falling against her shoulder.

“Ohhhh.” This time it is a sigh, heat flaring dangerously at the base of her spine and he leaves and returns. “It’s not... I’m...”

“Yeah, you’re close, ‘Licity. Let go for me... just...” He lifts his head, their eyes meeting as his free hand slips between their bodies, setting a cadence against her clit in time with the one pushing them both closer and closer to the edge.

“Yesssss.” Her legs spasm slightly around him and he redoubles his efforts, thrusting into her more fully, his teeth tugging at her bottom lip as her nails press crescents into the nape of his neck. “It’s... oh fuck... that’s... yesyesyesyesyes.” 

Her fingers flatten on his skin as the heat crashes over her and then she’s kissing him, hot and hard and so goddamn good that she makes him lose rhythm once or twice.

Her tongue curls against his and she smiles as he groans into her, his fingers dancing up her spine as he changes their angle once more, thrusting into her even harder.

“Not gonna... much... longer...” It’s almost a mumble against her body, but she knows— _feels_ —it and it flares another current of desire deep within her.

Nodding, she leans forward, grinning when he presses into her more fully, his hand cushioning her head against the wall as he moves faster and faster and...

She’s falling again, back bowing as her orgasm rocks her.

He manages one more thrust and then follows, grunting her name against her jaw as he comes.

“So is that your idea of water conservation?” She smoothes her hands down his chest as he gently lowers her legs, brushes his lips over hers.

“I didn’t see you arguing.” He reaches behind them, switching off the shower, and then drops another kiss to her forehead before leaving her completely.

“Never, just...” She gestures to some lingering sand on her calves.

“Oh, you want a repeat performance?” Grinning, he leans out of the stall and snags two towels. He quickly knots one around his waist before wrapping the other one around her, his fingers lingering over the still exposed skin of her shoulders. “Might not be good for the sunburn though; I think you’re supposed to use cold water and—”    

“Burn? You said it was pink.”

“It is pink, but I think it’s a good chance for me to get to play doctor for once.” He snags her glasses and grins at the slight shake of her head, the way her hip presses to his as his arm falls gently over her shoulders and he tucks her against him. “First up, very intensive aloe application...”  



End file.
